The Botched Execution
by Ginger5
Summary: How Sir Nicholas became Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost of Hogwarts.


**The Botched Execution**

_**Written by Ginger**_

"Julianne?" called Sir Nicholas, creeping amongst the bushes. He wore a stylish, plumed hat on his long curly hair and a tunic with a ruff. As this was the fashion of the 1490's. "Julianne, are you here?"

"Oh!" said a surprised voice. She was sitting by the lake, looking as beautiful as ever, with her blonde hair flowing down to below her shoulders in ringlets. She wore a dazzling ball gown that glittered in the moonlight and the ruffled skirt spread out over the grass around where she sat. She currently hid her face behind a peacock-feathered fan. "Nicholas, thou should not come hither."

"Oh but I must!" exclaimed said wizard, moving closer to the grassy bank. "Anything to see thou beautiful face." He sat down next to her, trying to see her expression, which was still masked by her fan. From the illuminating glow from the fairies, which hovered here and there around the gardens, he could see her eyes sparkle.

Julianne waved her feather fan in front of her heatedly. "Oh, but what wouldst mine father speak? If thy were caught 'ere... thy wouldst be obsolete."

Smiling, Nicholas took her hand in his softly. "I love you Julianne. I wouldst do anything for thou-"

The feathered fan stopped it's fanning and he could see her face more clearly in the moonlight. "Nicholas, please stop."

From the castle, trumpets were blaring from the Great Hall for the last dance of the Pumpkin Ball. "Wouldst thou have the last dance with me?"

The sixteen-year-old duchess in question batted her long eyelashes at him and smiled. It was not a sweet smile. Getting to her feet, she continued to stare at him, never letting the smile leave her face. "Tell me, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, wouldst thou in truth do anything for mine beauty or mine self?"

"I wouldst do anything for thee." He replied staring at her in a kind of trance.

Quite surprisingly for him and sudden, she kissed him. It was very passionate, but it was not the tender way he would have expected. In fact, Julianne was so rough they both tumbled to the ground still locked together by the lips. And if this wasn't such a surprise, wait and see what happened next.

As quickly as she kissed him, she whipped out a dagger out of nowhere (supposedly her undergarments). Then she slashed at one of her shoulder straps of her gown and lay there sprawled on the wet grass while Sir Nicholas goggled at her in utter shock. "GUARDS! GUARDS! RAPE! ABUSE! HELP! HELP!!"

The words screamed into the night.

"GUARDS! GUARDS! HE HAS A DAGGER!"

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, duke of Godric's Hollow. You are convicted of the murder of Miss Julianne Elizabeth Hopkins, daughter of King Richard I. The punishment fee for such crime is death by decapitation and-"

"OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!" cried a few righteous trial members, interrupting the judge's voice.

"Though as this is a Hearing, we must first hear the witness's. We have two such people. The first is Miss Betty Delacour, daughter of the Prince of France."

A slender girl with dazzling pure-white hair and crystal blue eyes, looking very pretty in a frilly daytime dress. Everyone in the courtroom gaped... ahem; every wizard gaped, while most of the witches slapped their partners to their senses.

"Name."

"Betty Delacour." She responded with a French accent.

"And what did you see on the night of the Pumpkin Ball at Hogwarts?"

"I zee dat fellow creep up on zee poor young girl. Ze girl waz Julianne 'opkinz."

Nicholas watched the veela girl with disdain as she continued with her tell-tale.

"...an' zen 'e grabbed 'er by ze arms and tried to stop 'er from screaming, and zen zere waz a dagger in the air, I zaw it glimmering as clear as day in the moonlight. I 'ad to close my eyes from zen on. I 'eard the dagger as it stabbed 'er in the chest an' zen again and again... zen zere waz silence..."

He was framed. He knew what really happened. But no one would believe him; he couldn't quite believe what happened himself. It had all happened so fast...

--- FLASHBACKïƒŸ--

"GUARDS! GUARDS!"

"Julianne!" Nicholas grabbed her arm to stop her from making anymore of a scene than she was already doing so. "What is wrong with you? Have you gone insane?"

He tilted her face towards him and he could see tears in her eyes. Real tears, which seemed to be pleading for help. Her arms were struggling out of his grip to get away, but he could see from the eyes that she didn't seem to want to. For a few moment her lips moved with great difficulty to mouth him two words.

_Help Me._

"What's going on, Julianne?"

"Thy is committing sexual intentions, that is what!" she shrieked and her eyes changed from the plea.

Nicholas seemed non-plussed. He put his hands up in front of him, looking at her innocently. "Look, I'm not even touching you... will thou calm down."

"GUARDS! GUARDS! HE HAS A DAGGER!"

Of course, Nicholas didn't have a dagger. SHE was the one holding the dagger. As if by her own will she held it aloft her head, staring at him in a deranged sort of way. He tried to take it out of her hand but she was too quick and then it was too late. There was blood on her gown. He grabbed her as she fell to the ground and he saw her look at him. Though she didn't look deranged anymore, she held that familiar twinkle in her eyes. The Julianne he knew. She was struggling for breath. "Nick," she whispered. "Twas not me...trickery...curse... I am sorry, love." She then closed her eyes and her head lolled on his shoulder.

END OF FLASHBACK

Nicholas knelt before the block. His body was shaking all over. He'd spent the past night in totally misery and was very afraid. He didn't want to die. He had to put up with some prissy all night in the next cell playing the lute... it didn't put any spirit in him, especially as it was titled "Flow My Tears".

The executioner, someone known as Henry Nott, was masked with a black hood. In one hand was a large sharp axe. Henry Nott, who everyone knew as a moody wizard who spent most nights drinking ale. Last night was an exception. He had been drinking wine. He even had a glass before heading down to the execution ceremony. The victim, or convict, Nicholas, was kneeling before him, wrapped in iron chains. Executions were thought as a very grave period of time, taking one's life away. Fortunately for Henry Nott he was feeling quite chipper.

Unfortunately for Nicholas, the executioner was drunk. "Any last woordz..?" Henry slurred while sharpening his axe. "Requestz... before Mr Pointy comes for in..er-inspek-er...er...zinspection?"

"Yeah, I'd like to live."

The axe swung down and missed his neck by an inch.

"That waz juz a practize round...y'know...tezter..."

"Help me god!" cried Nicholas as he hugged the wooden block for dear life...which was going to end very shortly.

Henry stared at the spot where he was meant to chop and his eyes went cross-eyed as he swung the axe a second time...

"You missed..." Sir Nicholas said. He opened his eyes. It was dark.

He heard some voices in the distance. "That's not a very clean cut... is it Henry... dear lord are you drunk?!... Look at this mess... you didn't even cut the man's head off properly... you know what this means don't you..."

Well to Henry it meant he's wages were down by 50 percent. To Nicholas it meant he was Nearly Headless Nick.


End file.
